Catacombs
by The Amazing Fetus
Summary: Ciel finds a hidden room containing his father's secret belongings. What family secret could be so horrible as to having Vincent lock it away in a room for none but him to read? Only his journals will tell the truth about who the former Earl Phantomhive really was. (Vincent/Diederich, Sebastian/Ciel)
1. Discovery

_Ciel finds a hidden room containing his father's secret belongings. What family secret could be so horrible as to having Vincent lock it away in a room for none but him to read? Only his journals will tell the truth about who the former Earl Phantomhive really was. __This is the story of Vincent's Phantomhive's life, and there's a little bit of how Ciel is affected by it too._

* * *

The Phantomhive manor, like all british manors, had a series of catacombs and secret rooms hidden beneath its structure. For storage, and also for the safety of the inhabitants of the manor. Should anything disastrous happen, such as the fire which killed both of his parents (some good these passages did for that), they would be used as a shelter to house the family. They were impenetrable, dark, covered in spiders and god-doesn't-even-know-what-else. He was down there because he was bored and kind of drunk and wasn't sure what else he could do. To his mind, crawling down in these forgotten dust and centipede factories seemed like the most productive way to spend an afternoon. Ciel held up a lit oil lantern and descended down into the creepy depths that were even further below the ground than the basement.

He had never actually been down here but he remembered eavesdropping and hearing from his father about how to hide down here. This is where his father used to play hide and seek as a child, and Ciel wondered if his father wasn't just as creepy and melancholy as a child as Ciel himself. The passage way to the hidden rooms and halls was at the furthest point of the basement, behind a latch door hidden under an old dusty tapestry that they used for a rug despite it looking like it used to be way too nice to be a rug. Ciel pulled back the rug and after clearing the plume of dust that spilled into the air, he saw the heavy wooden door. He was too impatient to call Sebastian to lift the door. It was heavy and wooden and it looks like the old rusty lock used to be functional, but was smashed apart with something. Perhaps an ax. Ciel didn't want to know who or why.

The door opened with the ominous creak that one could expect of opening a door that had not been opened in quite some time. He could just feel the chill of the cool creeping up the black hole but Ciel held his lantern over it anyways. It was a staircase, not a ladder and so, he still would have to call down Sebastian. He'd be embarrassed to do so, since he was so creeped out by this anyways and only children are creeped out by their own basements. Ciel didn't want to be immature, so he continued his journey to the depths of Phantomhive's catacombs out of sheer will and defiance to everything that his brain was telling him. Being, "No. Don't go down there. Turn back, you fool. It's not like anything good is down there." Ciel continued because fuck his better judgement, and fuck looking like a wimp in front of Sebastian.

Ciel could not see farther than his lantern's light would throw, but from what he could see, it did not appears so though there was a complex maze of hallways and passages like he'd always thought there were. In fact, it was more like a single hall way lined with wooden doors. They looked old, at least two hundred years, if not older. This was a lot less fun than he thought it would be. Ciel decided he would go from side to side, opening every door and seeing the contents behind each. If he were lucky, there would other hallways and doors hidden behind these ones. The first door on the left- empty and nothing hidden, the one adjacent from that was also empty. The next few rows were just full of empty rooms. Ciel opened a fifth one down and realized that this one was not empty, but rather, he wished it were.

This room was larger than the others, the stone floor was covered with hay and against the walls, chains were put in. He could see remnants of dried blood splattered against the wall, and even noticed that someone had forgotten their whip on the floor. Ciel did not want to know what happened or who it happened to. He was starting to think that some things were better left secret, and this is why the lock was on that door. He closed the door behind him, making a mental note of the lock which was broken and how that was a sign that he should never go back there. The other rooms were the same empty rooms, with nothing particularly special or unsavory hidden in them. The last room at the end of the hall facing back was locked. This lock was old and rusty but would give way when Ciel pulled on it. Luckily, he could just shoot it open with his gun. He was sure someone upstairs heard the bang and shatter of metal.

Ciel opened the door to find yet another stone staircase carved into the ground. He stepped on the first step then pulled back quickly, noting that it set off a gate that would come down on you completely if you stepped on the lever. Now this was intriguing, indeed. Well played, ancestral Phantomhives! Ciel skipped the first two steps, and landed on the third. He carried on his trip down the flight of winding, spiraling stairs that led down further than should have been possible. Ciel laughed to himself thinking this door might lead to China. In earnest, he figured it led to worse things than the torture chamber he saw before. The joke was to keep himself calm. This was his home, his territory. He should have nothing to fear within the confines of his own domain. He will fear nothing here... no imaginary spectors or traps.

At the end of the line it seemed, was just another wooden door with barely enough space at the landing to open it. The door was locked, and having no key, Ciel took it upon himself to shoot the lock open again. It was his house, and he'll shoot open however many damn locks he pleases with in it. On the door was a metal slat for opening and closing, Ciel couldn't think of why but he probably could have just picked the lock through it if he wasn't so damned impatient. Ciel opened the door to find a room no larger than a broom closet. It was left bare with the exception of a plain wooden shelf and a few boxes. Ciel closed the door behind him, noticing that the back of the door was covered with marks that appeared as though someone tried to claw their way out of it. He could see a bit of human finger nail caught in the cracks, as well as blood smeared within the scratchings on the door. He did not understand why, and decided that this mystery was entirely unrelated to himself and should be ignored.

On the plain shelf was a row of nearly identical burgundy leather bound books. The only difference was the amount of wear and tear each of them had, some more, some would books be stored down here? The idea of discovering new secrets sent Ciel's heart beating. He was so excited to see what kind of mysteries he could unravel here. Ciel picked up the one on the far left with his free hand and set it on top of the volumes. The first page was purposefully left blank, the second page had some writing in it. On the old, weathered pages tinted sepia by decades gone by, Ciel reads a fine scrolling text written with black ink. The handwriting is familiar to him like the writing of an old friend, he immediately knew who wrote this.

"Dear journal, my name is Vincent Phantomhive and I am thirteen years old. I am always miserable and I hate being alive, and I would rather burn in the fires of hell than spend one minute near any of the people I am forced to endure on a daily basis. I live in my family's manor out in the wilderness of her queen's empire. The only people I like in this world are my butler, Tanaka and my younger sister, Frances. To everyone else, I am nothing more than an unwanted parasite. They can not wait to get rid of me..."

His father's penmanship had always been perfection. Ciel picked up the second large leather covered book on the shelf. When he opened it and carefully held his torch above it so he could read the text it read:

_"Dear journal, my name is Vincent Phantomhive and I am still thirteen years old. I am still miserable and now it is certain that I hate not only everyone else, but also myself."_

Going further down the row of identical looking books, he picked it up and read the opening cover, now understanding the pattern.

_"Dear journal, my name is Vincent Phantomhive and I am twenty four years old. I now have a son, who is just an infant and I couldn't be happier in my life."_

Yes... all of these books... were his father's journals. Ciel took the first three on the shelf and headed back upstairs. If anything information could be found about the person who killed his predecessors- it would be in the many volumes of Vincent's life. If he had made any enemies, Ciel would surely find out about it within these handwritten tomes. He didn't understand why they were locked away down here, but he knew that this was important to him and to what was left of his family.

"I heard gunshots, my lord." Sebastian said. Ciel jumped in the air and nearly dropped the lantern from the shock.

"Did I frighten you?" Sebastian suppressed a laugh at Ciel who turned around and glared at him, lantern still in hand.

"I was just exploring the catacombs beneath the house and I was not expecting company, of course you would surprise me."

"What are all these books?" Sebastian asked.

"They are Vincent Phantomhive's personal journals. I would like you to bring all of them upstairs and into my office so I may inspect each one thoroughly. I have reason to believe that this could pertain to our little revenge plot so you will handle them with your most gentle hand, do you understand, Sebastian?"

"Yes, my lord." Sebastian said. He could never understand the human idea of collecting journals. They only lived for about eighty years or so, that shouldn't be such a long span of time to remember without having to write it all down. Still, he never heard of something so trivial being hidden in such a way. Clearly, neither had Ciel or there would be no reason for him to suspect that it would have something to do with their important contractual obligations. "And bring me up some chocolate and your strongest brew of tea. I will be reading until the crack of dawn and I would like to be awake," Ciel added in before getting back to his literature.

* * *

_Such a short opening chapter! I do hope that you will continue to read this story as I have it planned to be my biggest and best yet, even longer and more involved than Superhell! was. There will be more PLOT ARCS, more PERVERSION, more SASSY BITCHES... I want this to be almost like prequel to the Kuroshitsuji canon so I am holding this story in HIGH REGARD, for there will be lots of important details and character development. Though this is the story out of Vincent's journals, the narration is primarily 3rd person, because I loathe first person narration. _

_It's dark at first, but will soon follow canon patterns of dark moments and lighter moments mixed together to keep it from getting monotonous. It will end sadly, though. since we all know what happens to Vincent Phantomhive... It is not about his end so much that is about the life he lived, so please keep in mind that even though we all know how the story ends doesn't mean that the journey within it's pages will be any less AWESOME to behold! I assure you, the life and times of Vincent Phantomhive may be even more scandalous and outrageous than those of his son. _

_All warnings are the same here as they are with the canon of Kuroshitsuji, so expect murder, child abuse, purposeful historical inaccuracy, bribery, crime scenes... and maybe Vincent banging dudes. Vincent banging dudes is a huge part of this story. So if you're into malexmale pairings, lucky you because there is so much gay in this story Oscar Wilde might even get involved. _

* * *

_**Note on posting: This fic is co-written by Good Mourning Moon and The Amazing Fetus, and is posted on DeviantArt, and AO3. The DA mirror is run by Kate (Good Mourning Moon aka The Commodore of Mayhem) and the mirror is run by Vi (Fetus aka The Admiral of Snark) and the Ao3 is co-owned. It's the same fanfic everywhere and there is zero plagiarism, we just divided the posting between us evenly.**_


	2. Throw Away The Key

_Dear journal, my name is Vincent Phantomhive and I am thirteen years old. I am always miserable and I hate being alive, and I would rather burn in the fires of hell than spend one minute near any of the people I am forced to endure on a daily basis. I live in my family's manor out in the wilderness of her queen's empire. The only people I like in this world are my butler, Tanaka and my younger sister, Frances. To everyone else, I am nothing more than an unwanted parasite. They can not wait to get rid of me..._

_Luckily, I am not alone for my sister has given me this book as well as a book of matches to keep me company in this hell. Hell, as I know of it and refer to it, is a room far beneath the basement of my father's manor where I am kept when I have been 'unruly'. Of course it is of my parents opinion that I am unruly by nature, and so, I have spent more time locked in here than I am outside of it. My only reprieve from this closet is when my fathers comes downstairs to beat me or if my presence is needed at family occasions in which they must pretend to care for me. Frances has managed to find another secret passageway down here through a dumbwaiter shaft and gives me things when father is not looking. She will be back soon to retrieve this book and keep it safe for me then redeliver it for another time when he is not looking. I really hope Frances doesn't read these. I don't want her to worry. I want her to think I can live through this, that I can tolerate it, even though I can not._

_Normally Tanaka would be assigned to such a job but only Frances's skinny frame could fit through the shafts. I will probably starve to death when she gets older, because I don't think this torment will end any time soon. Today, I have been delivered one japanese bento box made by my faithful friend and it is the only food I have seen in a week. The only good thing is that Tanaka, as a ninja by trade, knows exactly what to pack for people who don't see routine nourishment. This is not a joke, this is my life. If someone finds this and think that this was all a hoax by some privileged youth, should my withering corpse in this forgotten closet prove to you that my family name is anything but a privilege Let it be known, that when nobody is looking, the Phantomhive's lock their eldest child in a basement and torture him. I am unloveable, I am killable, I am forgettable, I am disdainable. I do not live for hope, I only live for release that I will never have. I fear that even if I will one day leave this hell, that I would have become so damaged by it that I could no longer function outside of it. Did I mention that people at parties rave over my beautiful pale skin and my long grey hair? If they only knew the truth of how I keep this perfect complexion..._

_I don't speak of it to outsiders because I know if they knew why my father locked me up, they'd see to it that I got worse. There is no hope for me. Even my own mother gave me away the second she figured out the truth, why I am so detestable. Why I am bleedable and rapeable, why I am lock-up-in-the-dark-and-leaveable. It's less about who I am, and more about who I want to be. In other words, I am a thirteen year old boy and I have realized since I was about six, that I have had just as many fantasies about running away and sleeping with handsome princes and knights as my younger sister. That is why I deserve to be hurt so badly. I do not even understand why it is wrong, but here I am, in the wrong. I still wish for a handsome prince to come take me away, but I know that should I ever get out of this torment and meet him, that he will leave the same as everyone else does. The only people who do not leave are Frances and Tanaka, because they are only humans I know with the slightest bit of humanity left in them._

* * *

Today was one of the few days in which Vincent was allowed to leave 'the room', as his father called it, but to Vincent it was just 'hell', or 'my room', since nobody else spent time in it. It was a small room with a wooden door with a slat in it, but nobody ever used the slat to deliver anything. The point of his room was to punish him for being alive, not to keep him safe, or fed, or clean. However, it was easter and as a holiday, Vincent had to be outside of 'hell', because appearances were made to be kept. If he stayed inside of it, people would become suspicious. The Earl Phantomhive had to keep up the appearance that he wasn't abusing his son behind closed doors.

"Vincent!" Frances said, when he was upstairs and his father left. He only stayed around to escort him to and from his prison. She held him tightly, and she was always happy to see him, though she frequently snuck down to him anyways.

"Welcome back from hell, young master," Tanaka said. He was a spry japanese man with short, black hair that was combed back.

He and Frances escorted Vincent and his malnourished and unwashed body upstairs where he would be bathed and dressed up to look like a proper, unabused, noble boy. It was warm but he wore long, lace trimmed sleeves and a high necked blouse with frills to cover up the bruises. His hair was long since he never had enough time out of hell to trim it, so Tanaka tied it back with a black, velvet ribbon. It now reached past his shoulders and over his face, which Vincent hated. He looked in the mirror and though he looked like a beautiful man with the face of an angel now, he knew that in less than day, he'd be back to being bruised and bloodied demon in hell. He didn't see himself as anything but that. Frances wished he would.

"Disgusting," Earl Phantomhive muttered when he walked past Vincent. Vincent assumed he was jealous since Vincent didn't inherit his ugly face and his naturally gray hair looked better on Vincent than it ever looked on his father. This would be the only words he spoke to Vincent the entire time.

The party was spent with Frances and Tanaka, Vincent only spoke to other people in greeting, welcoming them to their beautiful home. A home which Vincent didn't get to see much of, but actually thought was pretty badly decorated and also quite tacky. He hated it out here and much as he hated it in there, the only difference is that there was food and so much of it. Vincent gorged himself on cakes, and sweets, and meat, and vegetables. So fresh and he could eat as much of it as he wanted. Tanaka gave him five plates and he when cleared them, five more. God bless that man, even though Vincent was pretty sure he wasn't christian in faith. A woman approached Vincent.

"My, my, my. You are a handsome lad, aren't you?" she drolled on, her accent accentuated all the vowels in a shrill, elongated manner that made her sound more like a cat in heat than the cadence of a speaking human.

"How on earth do you stay so thin, and so pale? Goodness boy, even I'm jealous! You'll make a woman very happy one day, won't you?" she went on and on. God, he hoped she wouldn't try pawning her daughters off on him or something of that ilk. Frances snickered next to him. Oh, she knew everything and how funny it was.

"I am lucky to have a very sheltered... upbringing from my parents," Vincent said.

"Well, from your beautiful looks, I don't guess otherwise!" she said before leaving him be with his ever-shrinking mountain of food. Oh yes, starved and locked away! It's the hottest fashion trend of this season! Who knew Vincent would arise from the perpetual bog of misery as such a fashionable young man?

"Hello, Mr Phantomhive," said another person, bothering him. He was a tall man with curled black hair and he was speaking to Vincent. He was speaking to him as if he were a person with person rights and person things, which was a welcome change. Vincent tried not to get used to it.

"Please just call me Vincent, your formalities are wasted on me."

"I am Professor Agares. I have heard such glowing recommendations of your intelligence from your parents, and I am sending you an invitation to attend Weston College. Surely, you will attend in Sapphire Owl's dormitory, after all, a young boy so fluent in foreign languages and literature should only attend in a place meant for the brightest and best in England," he said and held out an envelope to Vincent. Vincent nodded gratefully and took it, as he tried to hold his expression to the appropriate.

"Thank you very much, sir," Vincent said, and Agares left. If he only he knew the 'brightest' boy in England spent his days locked away.

"Frances, what the blazes is this?" he whispered to her. Surely his parents wouldn't even speak of him in public much less tell a private school about how smart he was.

"A get out of hell free card, now take it," Frances whispered in his ear. Vincent nearly broke down crying. They did this. They didn't need to tell him that Frances and Tanaka went behind his parents back, forging signatures and sending letters. Vincent was never tutored, he wasn't that great at reading or writing. He only knew japanese because Tanaka taught it to him so they could have conversations his father wouldn't hurt him for. He nearly broke down crying then and there, and it wasn't because the scabs on his back from the whip were still healing. Oh god, if his parents knew what Frances had done, he could imagine easily what would be done to her, and poor Tanaka, he'd be murdered for trying to save him.

"Thank you," Vincent whispered. He had never been more grateful in his life. He owed them his life, and he swore than and there, he'd never let anything hurt them.

"What a fucking joke, this is," Earl Phantomhive said. Vincent was in his dark, stupid office full of books neither of them could read. Vincent, because of the years of isolation, and Earl Phantomhive because he was a stupid, inbred fuck. Vincent could probably read them all if given just a few minutes to remember what the luxury of being able to read by something other than match light.

"You know, what you stupid fucking whore, I want to see you go there. Tell me boy, you haven't read a bloody thing in years. You're illiterate. You think you can trick them into taking you? This says right here you need a high grade point average to stay in school, you can't fake that like how you fake being human! You little worthless devil. It's back to the room with you. You go to Weston in a week and you'll be back in that room before I even get home, better invite some friends this time too," he said. Vincent listened and did not chime in.

"I bet you'd know a lot about not being smart enough to get into Weston, wouldn't you?" Vincent retorted. He'd be beaten anyways, why hold the tongue? Why not insult the old goat, he was too stupid to get into Weston, anyways. It's not like Vincent suggested anything that would be far from the truth of the situation.

Tanaka had the unwanted privilege of doling out the punishments. Vincent knew Earl Phantomhive suspected him and as punishment to them both, Tanaka would be in charge of caning Vincent. This is where the Earl Phantomhive pulled up a chair and watched as Tanaka stripped Vincent down to nothing and tortured his friend. It was more fun to the Earl to watch someone else beat his son, all the pleasure of making him suffer with none of the wrist pains afterwards. He gave instructions to Tanaka. Make him bleed. Make him cry. Then there was... that. How disgusting. Vincent was grateful the blood loss made all of that nothing more than blur as he was so incoherent during the latter half of what happened before he was unceremoniously thrown into the dark room on his own.

"I apologize, young master."

"It's alright Tanaka, I know you would never mean it."

It was one week until he was out of here, and if he got kicked out of school, he just planned on sneaking out and running away and joining the circus or something like that. He really didn't care, all he knew if that if he won, he won, and if he lost, he would still win because there was no way that he'd ever return to the Phantomhive place of residence. The only way they'd get him back there would be for his own funeral service. After all, Frances and Tanaka had done their best to bail him out and it would not only be an insult to Vincent's future to land back here, but an insult to their effort as well.

* * *

Wow, I am legit shocked that I got so many reviews so quickly! Usually it takes a couple chapters for ya'll too warm up to my stories, so it's really nice to see this happening. I really, really hope that you will continue to like this enough to leave comments. I think if I got six comments on every update, I'd pretty much die of happiness just in case anyone was curious, hell, I could probably be convinced to update faster if this continued. :P I'm really happy to see my friends posting here and I am so glad that those of you who knew of Catacombs well in advance had their expectations met.

Aaaand... I'm also happy to see new friends too. If you are new, please let me tell you that I always love talking to people and even if I can be a bit absent minded/socially inept I really do try my best to reply and I really like getting to know ya'll. I am not one of those ice queen bitches who act like just replying is some kind of deep, traumatic effort, it's not. I really try my hardest to do so. so please don't feel like your reviews would be wasted. I appreciate all the feedback I get and I'm always up for a conversation via PM or skype so if you want to talk to me, please go right ahead.

PS- Kate's DA is goodmourningmoon as she in fact, uploads her chapter versions with .pdf files which I have personally edited and they are covered with art, and doodles! So please follow Kate and DA and if you haven't already- follow me! My DA ID is now demonmilk. I post a lot of cool artwork, Kate posts this story, and we're both legit as hell people. :)


	3. Butterflies Of Deceit

Vincent sat in the dark closet, and the shifting of metal against metal signaled to him that Frances was here to drop off his book then come back later. They said nothing to one another, as was customary, since they did not wish to be over heard. Then Frances would find the dumbwaiter shaft that led all the way down here; and place the boards that used to nail it shut back into place, then crawl up the teeny, narrow passageway using only an old rope and her immense upper body strength. Then she would find the correct exit to the dumb waiter elevator, that was in a vacant guest room nobody used and brush the dust off her dress then go back to whatever it was she was doing before under the pretenses to her parents that she detested her brother as much as they did. She whined audibly about how unfair it was that Vincent got to go to boarding school but she had to stay home alone like a lady in waiting.

Vincent found matches hidden between the pages of the leather bound book as well as an expensive ink pen he knew better than to waste the ink of. Also stacked between the pages of the book were sections that Frances had torn off her own text books containing bits of latin for him to recite. Vincent realized that he wasn't that bad at reading or writing because this entire time, Frances had been giving him an outlet in which to keep his wits about and his mind sharp. Frances, by all means, was probably a better parents to him than his real parents, for she was the only one who would care whether or not he'd do well in school. This meant that she would be all by herself with their awful bastard parents, but Vincent would be free and that was good enough. Maybe this whole private school thing would be easier than Vincent thought. Just five more days until Weston, five more days of dark, five more days of hoping not to receive a 'surprise visit' for pain from earl phantomhive.

Four more days until Weston, another night in the dark and Frances retrieved the book and slipped Vincent a small loaf of bread from Tanaka. Vincent sighed and enjoyed the tiny loaf of bread, which was basically like a bit of heaven to him in the this dark place. Three more days until Weston. He received a prompt and informal beating in his room with the bull whip. Two days until Weston and he was still bleeding from the last beating which, mark his words ,would be the last of the last beatings. One more day until Weston, and upstairs Frances was busy packing his bags while complaining to their parents about how unlucky she was and despite all this, how happy she was to see Vincent finally leave the family. She said she'd hope that he'd never come back and Vincent would have known that she meant it in a good way.

This morning Vincent was on his way to Weston. Firstly, he had to stand up as Tanaka helped him up and that took all of the effort of a battle. He walked out of the passages and thankfully it was still awhile until sunrise and his eyes wouldn't have to adjust to a sudden onslaught of bright lighting. Now he was on his way to eating a large breakfast as Tanaka bandaged up his still bleeding back so that it would not stain his white uniform shirt. He would go there by carriage with Frances to see him off because his parents just wanted his blasphemous ass out and they didn't care how he left. They just wanted him to leave and never come back to disgrace the family name.

"Goodness, this simply shall _not_ do," the tailor said, an older woman with greying hair and kind brown eyes. At Weston, he was first seen by the tailor, who was to make sure that Vincent did not look like a slob in his uniform. Sadly, he did and it was hardly of his own choosing.

"I'm sorry," Vincent apologized. The uniform did not drape over his body so much that it hung over his pale, white arms and now that that the shirt was taken off, she could see the bones of his back, as well as the numerous scars that accompanied them.

"No, no, dear. No need for apologies. It will only take a minute to tack these in a bit," she said. Vincent sat on the chair in the room. He was grateful for the lack of questions. A small girl with curly brown hair and cute brown eyes just like her mother approached him.

"Hi, I'm Nina," she said. She must have been carried along by her mother to sit patiently.

"Well aren't you just the cutest girl in England?" Vincent asked. Seriously, she was adorable. Vincent wished that if he could have a daughter, that they'd be half this cute. Frances was cute too, but she was never the type to stare at people with doe eyes.

"Mum says I have potential," Nina said, holding up some crude drawings of frilly dresses, including a pink and black one with many, many layers of ruffled muslin. If Vincent were to have a daughter, he'd make her wear the adorable pink dress.

"That is going to be a beautiful dress one day," Vincent said.

"You think so?"

"I know so."

"Here you go, Mr. Phantomhive. If you need anything taken in or out at Weston, I'm here to help you!" she said.

"Thank you very much for your help." Vincent put on the jacket and looked at his own reflection. He still looked terrible, but now his uniform wasn't falling off of him and oh, let's face it, he looked and felt like he was near death and he only hoped that nobody else would notice it or if they'd just think he was sick. There was still one more thing he had to do, and it was a damn good thing he swiped a pair of sewing shears from the house so that he could trim his shoulder length hair a bit shorter. It was now up to his chin and Vincent could already tell that despite his awful cutting technique, he at least looked less... wretched. Alright, he still looked like he'd been through the ringer but he was hoping he didn't look like someone dredged his sorry ass from a torture chamber underneath the Phantomhive Manor.

"Stay safe, Vincent," Frances said. Tanaka was waiting in the carriage and Frances stood outside the gates of Weston. No girls allowed. In Vincent was afraid of anything, he'd be afraid that he wouldn't be able to see his sister.

"I promise I'll write," Vincent told her.

"I'll make sure to send it to the vacation house and address to Tanaka, okay?" Frances pulled him close and gave him the tightest hug to ever be given to someone's older brother. She would miss him but it would be for the best that he stay here and never see the family again, she knew it to be true.

"Welcome to Sapphire Owl, my name is Lysander Bluer, and I am the prefect of blue owl house, please enjoy your stay at the school," he said before leaving Vincent to prowl on his own devices. Vincent strolled around the library. God damn, he could get used to being in here. It was empty and quiet and oh man, he could read books by daylight. Talk about your type of luxury suites.

"Hello," he said, trying to be friendly with another student who appeared to be a first year like him. He was doing what appeared to be math homework that Vincent knew he was going to fail at.

"No speak english," the other boy said, not looking up from his homework.

"Oh please, you wouldn't make it here if you couldn't," Vincent said. You just can't hide anything from Vincent Phantomhive. He can smell deceit, perhaps not literally, but he's like a shark in the water.

"Okay, you got me. Just don't tell anyone I speak english," he said.

"Why not?" ask Vincent.

"I like messin' with them. I also like telling them that I can turn into a butterfly made of smoke and sift through the vents...some of them believe it," he said. Vincent could see that he smiling just thinking about it. So that was his game, deception? Well, consider Vincent your match!

"Well then, Mr. Butterfly, I certainly don't recall ever having a conversation with you," Vincent said.

"What?"

Vincent learned that his bunk mate was not only the same kid from the library, but a young student from Shanghai named Lau. Apparently the dorm gossip said he had connections with the mafia, to which Vincent and said,'_thats ok with me, my father is a hit man_'. Nobody took that comment seriously but they all gave him funny looks after that so maybe they didn't suspend their disbelief entirely. During class, Vincent paid attention and took long notes with his pen. Sitting in class with people, in the light, it was such a thrill to him. All of this wonderful stimulation and lack of isolation, it was fascinating. He liked seeing the way people passed notes and sighed at certain points out of boredom while he himself could not be an more enthralled in this situation. He also noted that Lau took all his notes in chinese, just to keep up his act. Kudo's to you, Mr. Butterfly, you clever young bastard.

He also had dinner, like a full blown _dinner_ dinner. Not scraps of bread; and while he was grateful for bread scraps, he was more grateful when he received like, a hot meal with everything. The other students gave him strange looks again in the shared showers. Everyone in the dorm room in the mornings would strip naked and take a public washroom shower, which Vincent was no exception to. Of course this meant that every student in Blue Owl was privy to seeing the numerous scars that covered Vincent's body. Sure, most boys just stared at the floor and counted the tiles, but some got the occasional glance at the scars. Rumors spread and it was now, that from a combination of bunking with Lau and having these scars, that Vincent got the reputation for being the coolest kid in blue house. This was a lot like being the least dorky dork in a sea of dorks, but hey, it was pretty nice.

"Okay, Phantomhive, I have a question..." Lau said, "Whats with the scars? You look like someone pushed you through a meat grinder..." he asked, sparing not a single detail for what he assumed it was.

"My father beat me with a whip. Why do you think I like here so much?" Vincent said. He found no reason to be deceitful in regards to the cause of the scars. After all, he'd probably forget the lie about them soon enough anyways so he might as well just be honest from the start.

"Less whipping."

"And more boys, of course." Vincent said. Because honestly, who sends their son to an all-boys school because they hate him because he likes other boys. That's just like sending him to heaven. If they really wanted to torment Vincent- they'd send him to an all-girls school.

"Whats that got to do with things?"

"They beat me for being a homosexual. One day I was in the garden reading Jane Austen with my sister and we were both discussing why I think Mr. Darcy is an absolute hottie and why she thinks he's not worth a damn, and as soon as you know it, I have been locked in the basement and it's been like that for years," Vincent said. He felt no need to keep it secret after all, he kept his Butterfly's little secret. They could be in secrety-secret cahoots together.

"Western pigs," Lau said. "They can't appreciate the spiritual need for such relationships."

"Are things different for the chinese?"

"Of course, if you look at the classical chinese emperors you would notice that not a single one of them was without a male lover."

"Fascinating," Vincent said. Truly? He was really taken aback by this sudden revelation. People were like him without getting killed or maimed? What a novel idea! He though of himself as a noble perhaps, with a female friend and a loyal male companion. Oh, what a lovely idea. He could see his life unfolding with that perfect, exotic plan. A wife by his side, and a lovely young man in his bed. And to add to that, it would be just his favorite type. Dark hair, dark eyes, and just a little bit rough around the edges.

"It all changed when the west showed up with their christ this and jesus that, and then you know we're all thou and holies and crosses and all the neutral energy of a male and male relationship is being called evil. Truly, England would benefit from learning a thing or two from the Taoist books."

"I agree wholeheartedly."

"But is your father really a hit man?" Lau asked. He had heard Vincent's little story about that and he found it as likely as his butterfly tale. Then again, his own family was known to have connection in organized crime, so why should it surprise him to learn that he's not the only one?

"Do you think murder means a thing to someone so cruel as to beat his own son?" Vincent asked.

"No, I suppose not."

* * *

Thank you for reading and reviewing! I think I might update every week now, I'm not sure where Kate is on that, tbh but I'm saying it's every week, because I'm working ahead and I've finished my other fic, and I've also finished the manuscript for the Superhell! novel. I'm at this weird crossroads in life right now, I have a lot of "free time" but I also have severe chronic illness that makes it so that all my time is spent in constant suffering. Sure I don't work so much but the truth is that dealing with chronic illness is a full time job that you can't quit.


	4. Dramatic Irony

Weston College has a drama club, just like well, every other type high school known to exist. This year they were putting on a play for Hamlet. This is a fine british school and therefore, the plays of famous british playwrights are most acceptable to a place such as this. Why, if they didn't put on Hamlet, what a mockery that would be! They held blind auditions for the whole week prior, and nearly every boy in attendance had tried their part at attempting to act from Hamlet- even students from Green House. However, it was always Blue House or Purple House that got the parts. blue house, full of smart fellows good at memorizing their lines, and purple house...was purple house. To keep any sort of funny business from going on in terms of favoritism, the blind auditions were held only to be fair. Students were judged primarily on how well their voices projected the characters.

"What the hell, how did this guy get casted as Hamlet?! I should be Hamlet!" yelled a blonde boy with long, flippy hair. He pointed at Lau, who smiled and shrugged. He said nothing.

"Because you're the only boy in class girly enough looking to play Ophelia," Vincent explained. Of course, at all boy's school, the roles for female characters were primarily selected, not on acting ability, but the ability of a student to be convincingly female. This is why Alister Druitt got stuck being Ophelia. Still, why they casted Lau as Hamlet is entirely beyond recognizable logic. Vincent was looking forward to his butterfly's greatest performance yet, and he wasn't quite talking about the play.

"Whatever, at least I'm not a ghost," Alister said, flicking his blonde hair in Vincent's direction.

"Don't worry Lau, I promise to be the best dead father of all time," Vincent said, patting his friend on the shoulder with his bony hand. It was only right for the Phantomhive to play the part of a phantom, after all.

"Arast Yorick E noo heeem wer..." Lau said, looking at the script for his play. He pretended, quite flawlessly, to be barely literate in his readings.

"No, the line is: Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio..." the drama teacher said. "Please try to annunciation your words more clearly so the audience may understand you."

"Sorry. Try harder," Lau said.

"Please see to it."

"Get nerves when people," Lau explained. Everyone put on a collective sigh, for none of them believe for a second that Lau could actually pull off acting as Hamlet. The real secret, as Vincent knew was that Lau was pretending to not know his lines while secretly knowing all of his lines and pretending to not know his lines just to piss everyone off. Vincent caught him all alone reciting them for real, and he was brilliant, but this acting was so much more insidious. Mr. Butterfly filled his heart with a type of a glee unknown to him. He made being a deceitful bastard look like fun!

"It is alright, I know you are trying your best. Now please repeat your lines," the drama teacher said this as he pinched his brow and sighed. God help him.

"What a cad," Alister muttered about Lau. Vincent jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow. Considering that he was still fairly underweight, a jab from his pointy elbow probably hurt much more than the usual elbow-jab.

"Shut up, suicide girl. You're supposed to be dead," Vincent told him. He already disliked Alister and they didn't even speak to each other in the play.

On the night of playing Hamlet, Vincent anxiously waited around, knowing that he was late for makeup, and he was urgently looking for his sister and his butler to arrive. Frances was never late, and in fact, was always uncomfortably early but this time it was fifteen minutes until curtain when she finally showed up and most of the other visitors from outside the school were already seated. Frances and Tanaka spotted him and Vincent rushed just a little bit too quickly to their side.

"Vincent, you look so much better!" Frances said as she embraced him. She felt less of his bones and while Vincent still looked kind of dead, he didn't look at horrible as he did when they last saw him off.

"Missed you two so much."

"Has Weston been kind to you?" Tanaka asked.

"Of course it has, but I have to get ready, so I will see you two after the play. PS- that chinese boy has spent the entire semester pretending to not know english and I promise you that bit of information will make the play so much better."

"Just stay out of trouble," Frances told him. Which Vincent translated as 'just don't get caught', even though Frances meant what she said quite literally. He just had a tendency to hear differently.

Vincent and Alister were back stage and Alister was busy preening his long, blonde hair with flowers so he could fake being a dead girl. The curtain closed and it was time for Alister to take on the role for which Ophelia was most known for- being a suicidal girl. Because apparently, of all notable thing young women can do with their lives, ending it prematurely was the most 'romantic'.

"Your flower is askew," Vincent said. He himself had years of practice weaving flowers into both his sister's hair and his own hair, to the dismay of their parents. He fixed it in his hair while Alister turned tern and stammered to himself.

"Thank you," Alister said. Goodness, was he blushing?

"Hope you do well, my dear Ophelia," Vincent said, and while everyone was too busy to notice, he planted a totally-not-platonic kiss on Alister's lips. Alister fainted on the spot and everyone he was playacting when they had to drag him on stage to reprise his role as the corpse of a suicidal girl. Vincent was proud of him, he really was.

Frances and Tanaka sat in the seats of Weston college's theatre next to the family of one of the other students. They talked loudly about how well their son was doing at Weston and Frances, just for a second, wished her parents could have said the same of her brother. Since he left, not a single mention that Vincent existed was within the Phantomhive household. What little he owned was thrown away, all pictures of him cropped or burnt. It was as if Vincent Phantomhive had never existed at all and the only thing left of him within the house were the invoices for his tuition payments. Which weren't shredded if only because Tanaka was in charge of managing house finances. His pale skin, grey hair, and sullen face certainly made him look perfect for the role. Frances wondered, for a second, if seeing Vincent on stage acting so very well as a ghost wasn't just the most perfect and ironic thing of all.

After their performance, Vincent and Lau headed out back, still in costume, to pass the time with Frances and Tanaka. The audience had erupted with praise for Lau's brilliant acting as Hamlet. His lines were delivered perfectly to the back of the crowd that watched him. Lau had even flawlessly imitated the accent of that time hundreds of years ago in a way that most could not dream of doing. He was the perfect hamlet, and of course, this meant that he only pissed off his classmates more. Because now they all fell like complete fools for falling into his little plan. The only sad part about the entire performance was that Lau could no longer lie to them. What a shame. He was a great actor on and off stage, Vincent hoped that they wouldn't make him transfer to purple house because of it.

"Franceeess..." Vincent said, "I bet you'll never guess what I just did!"

"What, Vincent?" Frances asked. She knew she was going to be appalled by whatever she heard, she just knew it. Vincent got closer to her and whispered in her ear.

"You saw that boy playing Ophelia, right? How he was so still. Well, Frances, just before the curtain came up, I went to fix up his hair and when nobody was looking I kissed him right on the lips and made him faint. He was passed out the entire time."

"Oh for heaven's sake, Vincent!"

"What? I think being so good it makes another faint is quite satisfactory for my first kiss," Vincent told her.

"With a boy," Frances repeated.

"Well, he was dressed as a girl, which I think makes it at least kind of heterosexual."

"Vincent, nothing about you is heterosexual. Now please promise me you'll take your lips out of the gutter and try not causing yourself to get a poor reputation."

"You forgot to mention taking my head out of the gutter."

"It's too late that. You're a lost cause," Frances said. She was so severe even though she was probably the cutest girl who visited the school that day. She had the face of a cherub, but the personality of a spartan warlord.

"Is this the cute little sister you were talking about?" Lau asked.

"Yes, this my sister, Franny. Fran-Fran, this is Lau. He's a really good actor," Vincent introduced them. Frances was clearly angered by the pet names, which really, was the only reason why Vincent used them.

"My name is Frances Phantomhive."

"Ah, you're right she's exactly as cute and short as you said she was!" Lau said.

"I'm sorry Frances, but you are awfully tiny. You barely have begun growing," Vincent said, though he himself, was short like Frances was. He hardly stood a few inches taller than she did.

"Vincent you are barely above five feet, so why don't you just shut up while you're still ahead." Frances was visibly angered. Small?! Frances was not small, she was a perfectly normal height for a young lady, and besides, smallness is the sign of youth and beauty! In a world such as this, only the smallest and most petite of women should be called refined beauties of the era.

"Are all the Phantomhives this short?" Lau asked Tanaka.

"I am sure they will get taller," Tanaka said.

Meanwhile... The future Viscount of Druitt, Alister Chambers was still passed out back stage while everyone had fun at the party. It was totally worth it.

* * *

Wow guys, I like, almost forgot to update today. I was like, "man it's Friday I know have something to do but i don't remember..." so I went though everything. Went to school: check. Did school work: check. Took the dog to the groomers: Check. Bought fabric on a sale day: Check and then I was like, "oh fuck i gotta' update fanfiction. lol.

And what a week it is... it's a double update week! :3


	5. Revenge Ain't Gonna Cure You, Honey

_Dear Frances,_  
_I love you and I am forever grateful to your help. Thank you for everything._  
_Much Love, Vincent._

* * *

_Vincent,  
__Please tell me that you are behaving yourself at Weston college. I will be there with mother and father. Please have no alarm. __I hope that you have had better standing in the school after your little triste with the blonde haired Ophelia. No, I am not proud of you no matter what little evidence you may bring up to the contrary. I am concerned for your wellbeing and you worry me in a way that is far beyond my years._

___-Frances._  
_  
_

* * *

_Dear Frances and Tanaka,  
__I am having the time of my life here at Weston. Though I am a third year I will be not be playing, but the annual cricket tournament allows outsiders into Weston college and I would be delighted if you two were to come and visit me then. There will be opening ceremonies and closing ceremonies as well as fireworks by the river Thames.  
__Currently, I am quite busy at the time with finals approaching but I have you two in my heart and in my mind._

_Much Love,  
__Vincent._

* * *

_To my young master, _

_It appears that your parents have told me of their interest in attending the opening celebration at Weston college. This surprises me though they have expressed a wish to not address you of their arrival in letter, they will be there to greet you at Weston in person. Please do not fret yourself over this matter. _

_Sincerely, Tanaka._

* * *

Earl Phantomhive and Lady Phantomhive departed from the Phantomhive estate early that morning en route to Weston College, near London, located on the Thames river. They went along with their butler Tanaka, who drove the carriage and their daughter, Frances who sat beside them. They were approximately three miles from Weston through the forests when no other carriages were around. A masked man came wearing a lace venecian mask with fine ostrich feathers in it and a black, ankle length cloak. the carriage, by some strange force, toppled over, sending a Mr. Tanaka flying ,though he landed safely on the side of the road, since he well knew the proper way to sheild his head and neck from injuries as he rolled away. Frances Phantomhive managed to crawl out of the wrecked with a broken wrist, no big deal. The crash left Lady Phantomhive dead upon impact and the Earl Phantomhive had two broken legs, and dragged himself from the wreckage. It appears as though the masked attacked had stabbed him numerous times with a piece of wood from the carriage accident. Frances Phantomhive and Tanaka fled the scene before the masked man could harm them.

Of course, there was absolutely no chance whats-oh-ever of the masked killer actually being Vincent. None at all. Vincent had signed in at the library that morning and there was no chance at all that he snuck out the library window, climbed the wall behind Weston, and then sprinted to the woods where he would ambush the carriage while wearing a mask. The carriage wouldn't topple over and kill his mother instantly, and Vincent certainly wouldn't take a piece of wood that had broken off and noticed how it looked really, really sharp. And he certainly wouldn't have noticed that his father knew it was him and how he was crawling away. And Vincent certainly didn't not feel remorse as he took the splinter of wood and impaled him through the back with it so he died crawling on the ground like the pathetic animal he was. And he certainly didn't feel the blood that splattered across his face with his finger tips and he didn't hold up the blood that dripped from his fingers and admire himself for what he had done.

Frances and Tanaka wouldn't have known it was him the entire time and planned for this to happen, no, such treachery and murder is not suited for the youngest child of the Phantomhive family. Such a plan would be ridiculous because Vincent would be so out of breath and tired that by the time he sprinted back to Weston, scaled the wall, and went through to the library, he would have passed out right then and there at his desk in front of Lau. And he definitely wasn't faking having a severe fever and cold in order to cover up that up. That isn't something Vincent would do at all. Vincent would never kill his parents. He didn't hate or resent them at all for the years of abuse. He just wasn't that kind of guy. Vincent didn't kill his parents and he had an alibi to prove he didn't.

"You're a really good guy, you know that?" Lau asked Vincent.

"Oh? Do tell me," Vincent said.

"You had a severe sickness attack today in the library, and you are still going to the hospital in town to see your sister and your butler even though tonight is the best, and really, the only night to party all year. What a nice guy you are."

"Goodness, you flatter me," Vincent said, "But don't worry, I have a feeling they'll be alright and I'm certain I'll make it back in time for a little bit of the party."

"What a triumphant young man you are," Lau said. What could he say, he was totally in cahoots with Vincent and he didn't care if everyone beyond the fourth wall knew.

* * *

This and chapter four are both quite short, so it's double update week...

For everyone who is new to me, you probably don't know about my headcanons about the type of evil Ciel has versus the type of evil Vincent has. To those who are familiar with me, well, you should have expected evil!Vincent to make a come back in this story sooner or later. As a note, I'm totally aware that the part of Vincent knowing Lau from Weston is debunked from canon! BUT... I wrote that chapter before the most recent chapter. I do work ahead, at least a little bit, and this newest arc features Diederich.

So please excuse me in the future if this ends up fucked up or out of date with canon. It's the nature of writing fanfic of a story that is ongoing, some things i write here may become "out of date" or debunked eventually and since this newest arc is very likely to sow the seeds of knowledge about Vincent and Dee's relationship, a lot of what will happen in this story is unlikely to ever be canon or may be OOC as we know more about them. So, please keep it mind, I've been writing and plotting story for over a fucking year now, waaaaay before the current arc, and I really like my story and I don't want to change much of it.

Now officially ends the lives of Vincent's parents...and begins a new Watchdog's legacy.


	6. Cricket Bat Concussions

"I don't know what to say I'm proud of," Frances said. She was at the townhouse with Vincent and Tanaka. All three of them were dressed in their Sunday best every though they were not going to church, they were going to Buckingham Palace, yes that Buckingham Palace, for the purposes of Vincent's cornonation. But for now, Vincent was modelling a rather sharp dark red and gold detailed suit in front of the mirror.

"Well, for starters..." Vincent went on, and while Frances's expression went sour, it did not stop him. "I am devilishy handsome, well within the standards of genius, I look fantastic in this jacket, oh, and I'm being coronated as not only en earl, but as the queen's personal detective at quite the young age," he said this as he reached for his most fabulous hat and placed it on his head.

"I do hope you greet her majesty with terms less arrogant," she said. Vincent had his fringe in his face,again, and Frances pinned it back with one of her hair pins. Now that he looked slightly less indecent, they were off to have the least responsible bachelor in England be both coronated and given a familial curse he didn't deserve but was oddly enthusiastic about receiving.

"Of course, I shant put a hair of mine out of place!" Vincent said.

"Why do I not believe you?" Frances asked as they entered the carriage.

"Because you know me too well."

Vincent was standing outside of the palace, after being newly brought into the proper station in life he felt a little, well, giddy. Frances was beside him, rife with anger that at the very last moment, he had restyled hair in his preferred way. The way which Frances thought made him far too indecent and casual to be stepping foot near her majesty. Lau was walking slowly towards them, in his usual chinese brocade clothing rather than his Weston uniform which Vincent saw him wear most often.

"So my earl, where are we headed off to?"

"I was going to smuggle a bottle back to Weston and throw one heck of a party, since I missed the July 4th celebrations and I think we all know that sapphire house's parties can't be finished unless I am both there and black-out drunk," Vincent said.

"What?" Frances asked, her eyes narrowed into slit and glared directly at Vincent.

"Nothing, my fine charge," Vincent assured her and Frances wasn't buying it. He was a terrible legal guardian, Frances was better at guarding herself than he was.

"What did you just say?" Frances demanded.

"You should get to fencing practice," Vincent said, changing the subject quickly. Frances was not entirely convinced but Vincent quickly ushered her into the carriage Tanaka was standing by.

"Study hard!" he cheered, even as Frances frowned at him from the window.

"Your sister is adorable," Lau commented.

"I know, right?"

The air is so thick with tobacco and opium smoke that the visibly is reduced greatly in the shady little den where the nobles gamble. One man throws away his entire estate for a silly card game. It is here, not the stock market, in which the economy of great britian is woefully changed for better or for worse. Should anyone be dumb enough to give away major corporate funds well, it could prove disastrous. Which is exactly why it is illegal and exactly why Vincent Phantomhive is sitting at the table with a cigar in hand, staring over his playing to the men sitting around him. He's probably twenty years the junior of the youngest man in the bunch but his assets and title are solid enough to give him credibility.

"Well, Phantomhive? You gonna' fold or not?" the man is drunk and looks over at Vincent.

"We ain't got all day," he says, slurring his words. Vincent looks up and down all arond the room, as if he could see anything behind this fog of noxious smoke. He's starting to get a headache. He's waiting for the right time to say his secret phrase.

"It's a good thing for it to be night," Vincent says, and unfurls his royal flush across the table. Just as they all look down at his cards in disbelief and anger that they've been bested by a young man, one of them is run through with a sword. He looks down at the sharp point sticking out from underneath his sternum while blood pours from his mouth. He slumps over as the sword is with drawn and Vincent looks up at Frances.

"Proud of you~!" he sings as he takes the pistol and shoots a man in the head. They are now panicking but they don't get very far, because they're all incredibly drunk and have become slow with age. Such is the curse of aristocracy!

The entire crowd of men has been slain, and the lot of them lay on the floor in a heap of blood and bullet-and-stab-wound littered flesh in some dingy old warehouse. Frances is wearing her hunting outfit with her hair pulled back in a low pony tail and a sword at her side. She looks up at Vincent with tired weary eyes, for it is just a few hours until the sun comes up and they have both been camping out here for far too long.

"To the victor goes the spoils," Vincent says as he takes a large sum of blood stained cash off of the wooden table. Murder or no murder, he rightfully earned that money. He feels light headed and he swears that he has a contact high from the opium, or perhaps he feels a migraine coming on. He pulls out a book of matches, strikes it against the floor and lights the entire building ablaze.

It's nine am and Vincent and Frances are just standing outside of the fences towards Weston college. Vincent takes out a handkerchief and wipes the blood off of his face before climbing over the fence. Frances looks back and forth to make sure nobody saw them before she ran off into the woods. Vincent saunters casually across the yards of Weston, because he knows nobody is going to be here during fag time and goes into the dormitory through the window Lau kept opened for him. He takes off his blood stained suit and tosses it into a suitcase that he hides under his bed where he keeps his nice suits from saville row he wears when he's not in his school uniform.

He is exhausted, but it's time for japanese literature so he grabs his textbook and gets ready for class. He doesn't see his fag anywhere, what an unreliable little bastard. Vincent walks across the lawns in Weston without impunity because he is the blue house prefect, but he also used to walk across them all the time when nobody was looking before he became a prefect. He was so tired and the headache was started to get to him. His world goes black as he passes out on the lawns with a book sitting on his face. He is so tired that he doesn't care where he is, the pristine lawns of weston are just as good as any matress in this case.

"Hey, wake up, mole!" someone shouts and to Vincent, their shrill shouting is distant and he's waking up from a wonderful dream.

"I could be finish is just three more minutes..." Vincent says, and in the haze

"There's no way a prefect is allowed to enter the lawn to nap!" he shouts again, the voice is becoming less distant and it's not helping the headache Vincent still has. Vincent looks up at him, and oh look, it's the handsome yet irritating green house prefect who is always yelling at him.

"Don't be so uptight, Diederich, and my name is Vincent," Vincent said, getting up off the lawn. He slouched against the fountain, which was probably not much better than sleeping on Weston's lawn.

"Don't call me by my first name, it's against the rules," Diederich said. His voice was low and the fag behind him was starting to look a little bit frightened by the situation.

"Hm," Vincent mused, despite how handsome he was, he was just so irritating, "It seems like from the people to the bread, everything german is pretty tough to handle."

"How dare you insult me?!" Diederich yelled, bringing back his cricket bat, ready to strike Vincent at any time. The boy behind him is near crying as Diederich misses Vincent quite narrowly and instead, smashes his text book to the ground.

"Thats quite the large book marker you've got there," Vincent laughs. Diederich looks at him with only contempt and fury, which really, makes him all the more amusing. Oh, how Vincent loves getting under his skin.

"You didn't come for the preparations today, I do not even know why they made you a prefect! The rest of blue house mustn't be any better than you."

"I don't mind if you say anything bad about me, but please leave the rest of blue house out of it," Vincent said. Alright, so he was sleeping on the lawn, and so he did skip the preparations because he had secret detective stuff to do, but the rest of blue house did not. They were very nice young gentleman and deserved respect.

"I will not. The leader is indicative of the pack, the people who obey you are not better than you are," Diederich said, his tone resolute. By goodness, Vincent just wanted to smack Diederich across his loud face with his ring hand. For worsening his headache, for interrupting his nap, for smacking his nice book to the lawn, and for being a complete arsehole to people who were not even involved in their argument! But anger and hatred can not be used to achieve anything.

"Well then, I propose a contest between us," Vincent said, standing up in front of the fountain. He looked prouder and sassier than he actually felt, he just wanted to go back to sleep. But no, he had to be argumentative.

"What?"

"Which dorm will win the cricket competition? Blue house or green house? The loser must perform one request from the winner," Vincent suggested.

"Fine, as if the green house would lose to the eternal losers, if I win I'll make you step down as prefect."

"Is that all? You really have no other desires...Well, I'll have to think of something as well." Vincent turned around, heading towards the class he was already late to. He was starting to feel a smile crawl it's way up his face.

"Don't break your promise," Diederich warned him. Vincent could only laugh harder.

"The same to you." Oh Diederich, what have you gotten yourself into? The Earl of Phantomhive never loses a bet.

The prefects of all four houses congregating in the swan gazebo just before the arrival of their loved ones. The air was still as all four boys and their fags stood them in casual, nonuniform clothing. Vincent stood out in his suit that was of a nicer make than the red house's prefect, Alister of Druitt. Druitt was wearing an all white suit, white waist coat, a black jabot and black womens riding boots. He was also far too much lace of french manufacture. Vincent wore the same suit as the night before, having his fag carefully wash all of the blood and opium smoke smell from it. He instructed him to 'stop asking questions, and just clean the damn blood off'. The prefect of Violet house wore a black cape, black suit and had black hair so he basically looked like a blob of gothic black with a stark white face. Diederich wore what appeared to be a german military uniform, which, really, was kind of out of place considering this was a british school and really, who the hell wear a military uniform to a formal dance? At least Alexis Midford wore a fashionable but plain grey suit that neither interesting nor laughably bad. This was all because the annual ceremony involving the elaborate house costumes had not been introduced until the year after. Before then, all prefects just wore their normal formal wear, or whatever they counted as normal, in Druitt's case.

"So... I hear there's going to be competition~" Druitt says. He is drinking contraband whiskey out of a tea cup. The violet prefect stays silent as Vincent and Diederich glare hatred and death at each other.

"A competition that I will win," Diederich says.

"Oh, how you love to say that," Vincent teases him. He sips on whiskey that burns down his throat with the same fire-hot anger he feels for the dark haired young an standing before him. Vincent lays across the couch, his against the pillow, with Alister in his lap. Vincent has a hand around his waist and nobody really seems to register this as anything out of the ordinary.

"I haven't seen you on the fields, not even once," Diederich huffed at him.

"I haven't seen you in the library once, yet somehow I'm sure you manage to pass your classes, or does the Baron Von Wolf pay off his son's grades and tuition?"

"At least my parents are alive," Diederich said. Alexis had a grim expression on his face but he was too much of a coward to tell him to stop.

"Come now, you can think of a better insult than that," Vincent said. He laughed, because his parents meant nothing to him, they were nothing more than his predecessors, and in private, he laughed at their death as well. "Or are you just going to try to hit me with a cricket bat again because you're not smart enough to come up with something witty to say, hm?"

"You're an idiot," Diederich said, his face turning red with anger and he stormed off from the swan gazebo. His feet stomped across the area like those of a child that couldn't get his own way.

"Sir!" Alexis called after him, running after him. He was a nice young man would could hardly stand raised voices or arguments.

"I find you both irritating and obnoxious, I do sincerely hope that Violet Wolf will the victor of the cricket match," said the violet house prefect. Other than that, he and his fag said nothing.

"Well, I think you are fabulooouuus," Alister said, falling off of Vincent's lap and onto the floor of the gazebo. He was clearly drunk of his literal ass.

* * *

Originally, this was chapters 6-8, but Kate's been really helping me out by paring down the unneeded parts of this story and consolidating chapters... so everyone, please thank Kate. her account is "good mourning moon", and I swear it to the moon (pun intended) that she is the nicest person I know. :)


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